The man from atlantis

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Alter finishing the shamanic healing session it was full steam out of the jungle as fast as possible. We were both a bit fed up of it by then, and decided the quickest route would be down the Amazon and though the jungle into Colombia. So we said goodbye to our new friends from the trip and bought tickets for a float plane (hydroplane that takes off and land on water) that went direct to a town called Leticia, which is in the heart of Colombian jungle and borders both Peru and Brazil. It also avoided an uncomfortable boat trip of 8 hours in a Rapido. After dragging Claire into the jungle again I could hardly argue could I !? (Claire says: NO)

Next morning we were waiting beside the river at this muddy riverbank that was the airport for the military airline who operated the floatplane. No departure lounge, no tax free shopping, no cafes, no nothing not even a seat. And we waited, and waited. Six hours later we were told that the plane couldn’t fly today as the cloud was too low for the pilot to be able to see the river. Despondently we trudged back to Iquitos for another night (its a good job we like the place!) and tried again the next morning. This time we got off only and hour or so late and were soon landing on the river outside Leticia after a fun low level flight over deep deep jungle with magical ox-bow lakes coloured terracotta.

Leticia still being jungle we flew straight to Cartagena the next day - from the extreme south to the extreme north of Columbia. We had booked a hotel but on arrival we decided it wasn’t really what we wanted given the heat and humidity. We needed to find something else. Eventually we ended up in a flash apartment hotel in the tourist area right on the beach, 13 floors up with a killer view. Not cheap, but again I was in no position to argue and anyway I needed the luxury for a while as much as Claire.

Suitably installed we went to see Cartagena itself. Although a big city, the only bit of interest is the old town. Surrounded by defensive wall, the place is full of remarkable conserved colonial buildings set around attractive plazas, really attractive. Bit like Havana in Cuba but better. Claire thinks that only Venice compares in beauty - praise indeed. Though it’s lovely to walk around, the heat in Cartagena is oppressive and you cannot do much in the afternoon (or even morning or evening, the temperature stays at about 28 C even at night).

Despite this we occupied the next week well enough, making forays into the outside world between extended periods of air conditioned rest in our lovely apartment:
We ventured out onto the beach and got pounced upon by two masseurs who wouldn’t take no for an answer and gave us a brief and messy massage there and then, then demanding huge amounts of cash with menaces until we had to be rescued by the hotel security guard - so we didn’t go on the beach again!
We got the bus into town and left our guide book on it. Realising almost straight away we went running after it (not easy in that heat) but then I got on the back of a motorcycle taxi and chased the bus through the town eventually catching it but the book already having been stolen. This is Columbia!
We went to see the big old fort on the hill but couldn’t stand the heat that was being radiated from its 3m thick stone walls and scuttled around quickly before getting back into a cab.

We went on a day trip to the local coral islands, the Islas Rosarias; Claire happily munching on lobster and fresh lime served from a canoe at about 10 in the morning, then getting roasted in the open boat by the intense sun and soaking wet from the bumpy ride before going to the aquarium. This wasn’t too bad really, and had sharks, turtles, and dolphins etc. But we didn’t see any coral though inexplicably Claire has coral burns on her thigh from snorkeling.

We went for walks around town and got hassled by the voracious street sellers continuously trying to sell jewellery made from the rarest bits of coral. We tried our best by telling them we would rather see it alive in the sea, but locals just do not understand conservation (most don’t understand our conversation either - this part of S.Am has a strange accent that is hard to comprehend).

And we ate… after other countries, Colombia or at least Cartagena had great food. We found several restaurants to past the hot nights away in, not least was a fab Argentinian steak place with super wines - prompting a decision to head south to that part of the continent as fast as possible. (Claire says: Hurrah!)

But in the end it was all too hot and we needed to move on. The Lonely (now re-christened the Lying) Planet had told us that the Scuba diving course were the cheapest anywhere here in Colombia, and just four hours up the road was a place called Taganga which had several dive schools - so that was our next destination.

Taganga is a small bay and fishing village just outside the main town of Santa Marta in Colombia. It’s an idyllic sort of place - nice beach, bars and restaurants scattered along it, not too many people etc. Lovely
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We had arranged a hotel, the Ballena Azul (blue whale), which - rather typically turned out to be the most expensive place in town. So Claire wandered around the town to get a better deal (while I had the tough task of looking after the bags in a bar!) and couldn’t find anything better which had the essential ingredient - air conditioning but managed to get the Ballena Azul down by 50% threatening to go to the competition -not lost those skills yet then!.

That evening we went to the dive school I had emailed to warn we were coming and wanted to take a scuba diving course. And so we met Max, the owner. Tattooed from head to foot, every inch, he welcomed us and handed over two enormous folders with the instruction to learn the contents in our own time over the next three days and turn up tomorrow at 8am for the first days instruction. Horrified, we trudged back to the hotel (or was it to a bar, can’t remember) and wondered what we had signed up for…

The next four days were fabulous fun. First day in the pool there were three of us on the course, and Max was also training three apprentices to be instructors, so we had one each. This was great from the teacher:pupil ratio point of view, but the pool we were on was only about four metres each way, and six people with 5 nationalities (English, Belgian, Scottish, French and Brazilian) trying to learn scuba diving in English in a small pond is a sight worth seeing! Bit like a fish feeding frenzy.

Basic training done, the next two days were diving morning and afternoon in the open sea, mainly along coral walls, in which I’m sure we saw main fabulous things, but spent most of the time concentrating on trying not to drown! Diving is a weird sensation at first - breathing underwater - but you soon acclimatize and by the end of it we were looking at the fascinating plant and animals that live down there. I kept thinking about the Jacques Cousteau programmes I used to watch as a kid. Max is an accomplished diver, but more importantly a great instructor and reassuring presence. Claire and I agreed that we never felt that we were going to drown when he was around - always confident and calming. We really picked the right school, especially given some of the stories of the other schools we were told.

Practical stuff aside, we had managed to find time in the evenings, usually as we sat in our favourite beach bar with a wine/beer watching the sun set, to cram. So on the last day we trudged back up to the school and took the test. Claire aced it - 100% - and won a free t-shirt (creep). I passed too…but kept her t-shirt! We are now qualified open water divers!

In a rush of enthusiasm, we agreed to do some more diving, me to advance to the next stage of qualification, and Claire for the fun of it. I then ended up going for three more dives. The first was a night dive - which was essentially the same but at night, and I felt was good experience for any diving I would be likely to do around the UK, given water conditions there! Next was a deep dive, going down to 100feet to see what it was like. This required stopping halfway back to the surface to prevent getting the ‘bends’ - all very exciting. And lastly a navigation dive to see if I could swim around underwater without getting too lost which I managed despite the instructor moving the bouy I was trying to navigate back to. All great fun. I want more! Ever since we’ve been looking through the guide books with new eyes, watching for opportunities to dive.

Diving over for now and ears still full of water, we went off to the Tayrona National Park for the night. Claire’s choice this one, and well worth it despite the mosquito bites and sleeping in a hammock (which was pretty fun really).

The park is an area of the coast in northern Colombia which is spectacularly beautiful. Having seen Tayrona I know that Treasure Island with its stoney peak and straggly palms does exist. The bays and beaches are straight from paradise - exactly what you would imagine it to be with palm fringed beaches, clear blue water and all the stuff. We have been to Paradise before, Thailand, Indonesia, Vietnam the Seychelles but this was the real deal. Weather was a bit cloudy though and it gets a bit boring as there’s nothing else to do but sit on the beach! One night in paradise was enough!

Still hot and bothered, it was time to head for the hills to cool off. This we decided was best done in neighbouring Venezuela, so the next day we took a bus out of Colombia. I think it will need a return trip. We didn’t see a lot of the country and were aware of the dangers all the time- although to my mind these are greatly exaggerated by northern hemisphere influences and America in particular. Next time we’ll bring next to no luggage and so be a bit more agile. The people were for the most part really friendly and kept asking why more people didn’t come and what we were told about the country at home.

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